Child of Kashyyyk
by Child of Mars
Summary: Chewbacca finds a human cub in the jungle and takes it home, little knowing who that human would become... Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's notes: A/U, non cannon story of the origins of Han Solo and his connection with Chewbacca. Yes, I know it didn't really happen. But what if it did? I'm not a huge Star Wars fan, so forgive me my mistakes and enjoy!_

Child of Kashyyyk

**He loved the child when no one would,**

**He gave his heart to him, made him his cub.**

**When the cub was lost, his heart burned as fierce,**

**When the cub was found, his heart ached with joy,**

**As any parent would.**

The sky above was clear and blue, with white clouds stretched across the surface. The inhabitants, both intelligent beings and creatures, could see nothing of the battle that raged in space above the atmosphere of their jungle planet. Yet another conflict between the Clone Army of the Republic and the Droid forces of the Separatists. Generated by a merciless slaughter of laser beams and energy torpedoes, huge explosions and burning clouds of fire scattered the remains of ships and men among the stars.

It was only when the peaceful sky above was violently ripped open by a sucking rumble that some of the planet's life forms looked and noticed. Leaving an arc of flame, the giant, shattered hulk of a Corellian CR90 Corvette plummeted down at a sharp angle into the Hoorrkhukk Sea. Growing hotter and hotter as the changing atmosphere wrought heavy friction on the ferro-magnesium ceramic hull, it went like a fireball into the calm sea, causing a sudden upheaval of steam and four foot waves that crashed into the shoreline over a few hundred yards away.

It bobbed on the water; still flaming on top while it steamed below, driving undersea creatures away from the intense heat. Then, after a few torturous seconds, with a last siren wail and the heavy metal clatter of collapsing gears and metal, it sank, leaving huge bubbles, then silence.

Tall, strong, and covered with hair, the Wookies grunted and growled at each other, with curiosity as to what was happening above and sorrow for whoever had been aboard the Corvette. Only one Wookie, some distance from the Kerritamba Village, saw something other than the behemoth wreck. He slid down from the vine he had been swinging on and planted both hairy feet on a thick branch with a bark of exertion. He narrowed his eyes at the thin trail of engine exhaust as a much, much, smaller escape capsule sputtered out, wobbling as it propelled itself into the woods farther inland.

With a sudden, enormous attack of curiosity and above all a hope of finding and aiding any survivors, the Wookie checked his crossbow for readiness, hooked it at his back, and began to navigate through the huge trees. He knew that the chances of survival for anyone at the bottom levels of the jungles of Kashyyyk, even a Wookie, were close to nil.

SWSWSWSWSW

It was hours later when he found it, but Chewbacca was used to long, hard journeys through his home planet. He thrived on them, enjoying the mystery, danger, and beauty of his world. It grew darker and darker as he got farther down the wroshyr trees and away from the sun. The rich, earthy smell of decaying plants and fragrant blossoms and animal musk mingled together and came to his nostrils. It was a smell he had known since he was a cub. It was the smell of the earth, of his home, of all things good.

He slid down half a trunk, grabbing huge pawfuls of moss and lichen to slow his descent. Twisting through a mass of vines, he landed on a thick outcropping of wood where a small tree grew into a gigantic one. There was little sunlight here, the fourth of seven levels in the jungle. The escape pod lay easily on the branches, most of them thicker than a house. Whatever incentive there was to tilt over the round areas was stopped by other, smaller plants that grew in the wooden bark as if it were earth.

Chewbacca stepped over some bushes and came towards it, eyes wary for any creatures that might be gathered around the new, invasive object. His ears immediately caught the sound of nail scratching against metal. A Tartuk, a mottled green and brown lizard that ran on two legs and was about four feet high, stuck its head out suddenly and growled threateningly at Chewbacca. Its feathery tail swept back and forth and yellow saliva bubbled up between its pointed teeth.

Chewbacca knew these creatures. Solitary, tough looking scavengers that were cowards at heart. He didn't even bother to draw his crossbow. Latching onto a shard of metal that had detached itself from the escape pod, he swung it with his powerful arm and gave an echoing, rumbling roar. He didn't aim particularly, and the projectile twanged off the side of the pod. The Tartuk gave a small jump before falling on its tail. It scrambled up as Chewbacca strode forward, yelling obscenities at it in Shyriiwook. The Tartuk gave a strange chattering cry before pelting off into the shadows between the tree branches, unharmed.

The Wookie paused to look after it before coming to the escape pod. It was a rather large one, meant to carry at least four people. He looked for the door and saw it had ended up on top as the escape pod rolled. Rather than roll it and risk making it fall off the tree, he took a good hold and shimmied up above. He slipped his large hand into the slightly small handle and released the pressure.

With a hiss, the door gave and he pulled it open.

Warm, dry darkness came from below. No…there was a scent of blood. With a feeling of inevitable regret, the Wookie bent his head and arms inside, feeling for a button. The emergency lights switched on. There at the bottom was the crumpled form of a man in a green uniform, his head split open with a severe burn on his arm and chest. It was his blood the Wookie smelled.

Chewbacca moaned sadly. As if in answer, so tiny and weak he almost missed it, a thinner moan rang out from deep in the tiny compartment. More like a wail. The wail of an uncomfortable infant. Sniffing suspiciously, the Wookie squeezed himself farther in and saw it.

Tied securely, almost rigidly, into a seat was a wailing, smooth skinned, blue-eyed, human child. His fuzz of hair was already showing itself to be brown, and by the way he was crying, he was mad. Chewbacca reached with both paws and slowly untied the baby, slipping a big arm around the tiny form and lifting it slowly and delicately out into the open air. The escape pod creaked as he lowered himself off it and stood on the branch, gazing at what he held.

The baby was dressed in a light green gown, so long that it hid his feet. His tiny red fists clenched excitedly onto Chewbacca's thick fur as he gurgled, blinking like an owl. On a strap of leather around his little stomach was a small, wooden medallion. There was nothing else. Perplexed, Chewbacca wondered who the man was, who the baby was, and what they had meant to each other that the man would sacrifice his life to get the baby out safely.

He had to bring the baby back to Kerritamba Village. Leaving it was utterly out of the question. Chewbacca treasured all forms of life, especially the young. He set it down in a snug crevasse in the wooden bottom and set about constructing a wooden cradle, bound together with vines. He slipped the baby inside and bound the front of it. The baby began to cry. Chewbacca took it out and made sure nothing was hurting it. He put it back in after lining it with moss and tying a strip of some cloth around the head to keep it still. Then he stood, barely feeling the weight of the human baby. Careful not to jerk his body, he began to climb up, up into the trees, leaving the escape pod behind.

Inside the pod, the communications system blared to life, replaying a brief hologram recording with the face of the dead man in shimmering blue.

_To whoever finds this, I have been charged with the protection of the child you will find by me. I am on a long, long journey with him. There is a chance that, during this journey, I may fail in my duty towards him and his family. If so, please, in the name of goodness, take the child with you. Take him back to his home planet on Corellia. You will be well rewarded for your trouble, if you will only return him to the family of-_

There was a final, dying burst of static as the emergency lights faded, leaving the pod in darkness, hiding the corpse from view.

SWSWSWSWSW

Chewbacca swung to a stop just above the village. He climbed down a twisting, curled up branch before landing safely on the wooden structure of his home. A few Wookie pups, kneeling together around some center of interest, looked up with envy to watch the adult warrior stride by, proud and tall. Some Wookies looked up from the openings of their homes, while others completely ignored him.

Chewbacca nonchalantly dropped the crossbow so it was leaning against his knee. Then he untied the cradle and eased it around into one arm, picking up the crossbow with the other. The resulting baby squall caused every single Wookie to glance at him sharply, perking their ears and sniffing at the sound.

He saw his cousin Jowdrrl and his friend Mallatobuck come towards him. They were both young adults like himself, and very close to him. Mallatobuck was a female, and she peered closely at the bundle he held. *A human cub?* she woofed, smiling at the baby's face.

*He is a survivor from the Corvette that crashed. There was a man with him, but he died from his injuries.* Chewbacca responded, watching with amusement as Malla nearly stole the baby from his arms and marveled at its tiny, delicate form.

*So lightweight. I feel he would fly some distance if I tossed him.* She rumbled. *Not that I plan to.*

Jowdrrl laughed. *What are you going to do with him? It is a bad omen to be so white. He is not the color of the earth.*

*I'll decide later, you superstitious ninny* Chewbacca affectionately swiped a heavy cuff at his friend's head. *Malla can play with him meanwhile*

The baby was busy yanking old fur from Malla's arms. She raised her eyebrows and woofed anxiously. *But how delicate is he? What can he eat?* With one finger, she gingerly pulled the chin down. *His teeth are so tiny!*

Jowdrrl reached forward and touched the baby's head lightly. *He is very little. Pound up some fruit as small as you can and see if he'll eat it. He's hopefully beyond milk need*

Chewbacca rubbed his nose and slung the crossbow into its accustomed position on his back. *Don't get carried away, you two. He will probably be gone in a few days.* He spoke no more and walked off a few feet. Then he turned his head slightly to see the child, so small and white against Malla's dark fur, with the other Wookie cubs crowding around in curiosity.

He wondered. Why was the ship shot down? Was it an accident, or did someone have a price on the baby's head? Why had the guardian gone through so much trouble to save its life? What was to be done with it? Give it back to the first human force that next landed here, trusting Separatist droids or Clone troopers to safely convey an infant back to Corellia? Would anyone bother about the life of a baby in the middle of a war at all?

Kashyyyk was still neutral in the Clone Wars. King Grakchawwaa was trying to avoid war on their planet as much as possible, only allowing certain factions on either side to land for refueling and trade. Therefore the only way to return the baby to its own kind would be for Chewbacca himself to journey to Okikuti, the nearest large city. But should he make such a large journey, only to find that the soldiers only considered the baby a casualty of war?

He looked back again, growling softly, and saw the medallion dangling, the baby sleeping in Malla's arms. And he wondered. Who was this human cub?

SWSWSWSWSW

Chewbacca was still undecided. He saw no clear path for the safe resolution to this child's journey. Discussions with his father Attichituk were no help, and the wanderings of his mind only grew more tangled as he tried to reconcile the problem. And all the while, he and the whole Wookie village grew fonder of the human cub.

The baby learned to toddle quickly, and was in love with the green, airy home he lived in. His favorite sport seemed to be to waddle to the very ends of branches and back, causing Chewbacca's heart to leap into his throat multiple times. But Chewbacca soon learned that a chastising roar worked well on any misbehaving cub, Wookie or human. When the baby disobeyed or wandered too far, all he had to do was give a rumbling, echoing bark, and the human cub would twist around swiftly and rush back to his original position.

Everyone soon got used to him, referring to him as 'Chewbacca's cub', taking care of him or even saving him when the need required, as they would to any cub of their village. And to Chewbacca's own pleasant surprise and amusement, even in his own mind he began to refer to the baby as *my cub*, not *the human cub*.

The toddler soon grew a shock of brown hair that the other female Wookies loved to ruffle with their paws, making him more attractive in their eyes. He didn't seem to mind, except when it got in his eyes. He had no fear, walking among these dark furred giants, following them and making queer noises as any cub would.

There were only two twinges on Chewbacca's conscience. One was that the boy was completely derived of human culture, of his people and home world. And any Wookie could tell you how important one's people and home planet were. Two, Chewbacca was often away from the village on long expeditions and adventures, leaving the child in the communitive care of Malla and the others. They didn't really mind, but Chewbacca still felt the baby should have a stronger connection with him.

He shouldn't really have worried, however. Somehow the boy knew exactly which Wookie it was that had saved his life and brought him here. No matter how many Wookies Chewbacca mingled with or how long he was gone, the minute the toddler's blue eyes saw him they would light up with delight and he would rush forward on strong little legs, eager to grab handfuls of fur and pull himself up into strong arms.

And Chewbacca loved it when he did so. Sometimes Malla was with the toddler when he broke into a run towards him, and as he easily settled the boy on his shoulders, he would meet eyes with her. She would blush and duck her head.

Jowdrrl nudged him. *she likes you*, he barked.

Chewbacca shifted the baby on his shoulders. *Did you ever grow up? You're almost two hundred years old, you know.*

Jowdrrl woofed mockingly and took the child from Chewbacca, rubbings his stomach until the boy giggled and did his own woof. *Ok, then us cubs will go play. Enjoy your grey hairs, my cousin.*

Chewbacca rolled his eyes and went to meet Malla. She smiled as Jowdrrl roared in elation, while the boy threw up his own high pitched, loud scream that somehow blended in perfectly. *Your cub has been with us for more than a year now, and you never gave him a name*

Chewbacca winced. *I always hoped to find his real one*

She shrugged. *He will grow into a man called Chewbacca's cub. Not a pleasant thought.*

He sighed. *I have been negligent. Whenever I come back, my thoughts are full of my friends and the stories I tell them and the fun I have with him. I will make him a name now.*

At that instant, Jowdrrl came pounding up, chasing the tiny, squealing human child. The boy grabbed Chewbacca's leg and looked back defiantly, spouting out babyish, soft voiced imitations of Shyriiwook. Out of his feeble grunts and growls, one kept being repeated. "Hraaaan." He wailed, before looking up at Chewbacca, asking him to see his point. "Hraaan. Hwaaan."

Chewbacca barked with laughter and swooped him up safely as Jowdrrl turned to chase other Wookie cubs into fits of hysteria. He rubbed a paw through the boy's already mussed brown hair, noting how his paw fur seemed to blend in color with it. *You wanted to say saaafe, saaafe?* He chuckled.

The boy nodded and reached forward, fingering Chewbacca's muzzle and teeth without fear. He saw only love in the kind, small eyes surrounded by thick, smelly hair. Chewbacca moved his head so he could speak without biting the child's hands off. *Doesn't 'Han' sound human to you?* He woofed.

Malla nodded enthusiastically. *It does. I would prefer a Shyriiwook name, but I suppose he would find it hard to walk around Coruscant with a name like Woolwarricca.*

*Whose cub is it, yours or mine?* Chewbacca laughed. Malla looked up at him sharply, and a feeling he didn't understand passed through her eyes. It was gone in a minute, and she said, rather sadly, *Both of ours, maybe?*

For answer, he swung one arm around her shoulders and held Han towards her with the other. She grinned and ruffled Han's hair. Han ducked away from her paw and twisted insistently, dropping to the ground and pouncing on Jowdrrl's unprotected back.

SWSWSWSWSW

Han took some getting used to his own name, but he had always responded readily to Chewbacca and it was no different now. It was much harder for him to speak Shyriiwook and he often did it imperfectly, but he understood it if he was born into it. Chewbacca sat by the fire in his father's hut, scraping out a new crossbow. Han finished wolfing down supper and came over to plop into the Wookie's lap, dangerously close to the knife.

Chewbacca sighed and put both knife and crossbow safely out of reach before grabbing the toddler under the arms and swooping him up into the air. Han kicked his feet and laughed hysterically, intermitting it with strange growls and barks.

Chewbacca lay on his back. *Han, you're flying. You're flying like the Netcasters, or the Cloudsweepers on their way to the sea.* He dipped his arms, making Han squeal with delight. Lying by a warm fire with a full belly and the laughter of a young one in his ears and a warm, wriggling life in his paws, Chewbacca didn't think he had ever felt happier.

Here was something small and weak that trusted in him and depended on him and loved him so much. What could he do but love it in return? And he did, he realized, he really did love his cub. There was no mate here to share his joys with, but even that would come in time. An image of Malla passed fleetingly through his mind. But she never gave any hint of her feelings. Chewbacca had only come to ponder the idea because of Jowdrrl's jokes.

But, thinking of the sea, and seeing Han, arms outspread, eyes closed in bliss, suspended above him, reminded him of the ship, the Corellian Cruiser that crashed into the water on that fateful day.

Han was completely welcome here in this village. But what of the outside world? Who would welcome a man who smelled of Wookies and only spoke in strange grunts and growls, with no knowledge of human customs or expectations? And when he grew older, Chewbacca knew, that wild, untamed spirit that allowed Han to dare even a Wookie roar, just to test the uncertain and unsafe, to crawl to the edge of a wiggling branch that extended out over a dizzying, fatal drop…that spirit would drive him to the stars.

Chewbacca himself felt the longing for space travel, but he loved his planet too much. Would Han love it as much? Would he not feel himself an outsider or a deformity, unwelcome on Kashyyyk?

He pawed Han's chin. *What do you think, Han?* He woofed. *Do you want to see the Universe?*

Han opened his eyes and frowned, impatient for the ride to continue. *Go, Chewie* he slurred out. Chewbacca laughed and twirled his arms once again before dropping Han onto his chest. He rubbed vigorously through the small head of brown hair, wrapping a thick, strong arm around the child. Hugging back, Han buried his face in the musty, dusty Wookie hair, and felt safe.

_**to be continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

Han was three when Chewbacca made his decision. Malla hated and dreaded it, but she could not deny the necessity for it. Jowdrrl said goodbye to his little playmate sadly. The whole village gathered to say goodbye, almost suffocating the tiny boy in huge, furry hugs and nearly deafening him with their farewell moans.

Chewbacca turned as Malla tugged his shoulder. *if you can't find his family, will you bring him back?*

*I have to find his family, Malla. We can't raise him as a Wookie*

She pulled more insistently. *I…we can move to Okikuti ourselves, save up, take him on long trips through the galaxies, teach him the Basic language!*

Chewbacca chose to ignore the fact that Wookies can't even speak Basic. But his eyes softened as he looked at her. *you love him that much, don't you?*

*I do! I do! He has fire in his eyes, and such a bright smile, and eyes like the sky! He is so small and weak, yet so brave and strong. He is the equal of any of our Wookie cubs, despite his tiny form! He is a cub I would be proud of. I love him.*

Chewbacca smiled, feeling something swell in his heart. Her words had released many of his own feelings for Han, feelings he had never tried to come to terms with or describe. Perhaps females were better at that sort of thing. He barked sharply, and Han extricated himself from the Wookie group and came running. Chewbacca picked him up and held him towards Malla. *If I cannot find his family, I will bring him back.* He said quietly. *He is our cub.*

Emboldened by his words, Malla reached out to stroke Han. *I love him.* Han smiled at her touch. Then, to both the Wookies' surprise, she reached over and touched Chewbacca's cheek. *I love you, too.* She woofed softly. They stared at each other.

Han wrinkled his brow at both of them. From his vantage of height in Chewbacca's arms, he put a hand on his head, *Grraar* (Daddy) he intoned almost majestically, then put his other hand on Malla's head, *Mrraar* (Mommy) he ended. They stood together, two Wookies looking into each other's eyes, with a human cub's hands joining them together.

They both leaned towards each other impetuously, touching noses. Just as suddenly, Jowdrrl broke the moment. *I told you, she likes you. Three cheers for our new life mates!* he barked. The village roared together in a huge wave of triumphant, echoing sound. Having been raised around it and knowing what it meant, Han threw back his own head and screamed, a high pitched note against the low, rumbling tones.

Chewbacca smiled at Malla. She smiled at him. They raised their heads and joined in.

SWSWSWSWSW

It was a long, dangerous journey, full of stress. Stress because Chewbacca was ever afraid Han would, through his ceaseless wriggling, work loose from the carrier and fall out to his death as Chewbacca climbed, or that, while they slept during the night, some predator might come and drag Han off before he was aware. Also, Chewbacca looked impatiently forward to the time when he could return to the village and claim Malla for his own. Finally, the Wookie had a deep fear someone would claim Han.

His intentions were pure, and he knew that to be among his own was best for the boy, but that idea was no balm to his heart, his stupid heart that loved Han and wanted him to stay forever on Kashyyyk with him and Malla.

When he finally reached Okikuti, it took some haggling and arguing to get passage aboard a trade cruiser that had finished unloading its technician supplies and engine gears. The captain first noticed the Wookie with the human child on his back when Chewbacca stopped longingly at the crates to finger some tools. He loved all things mechanical, and whenever he came to Okikuti, he would partake in any project available that involved building and powering up anything from space ships to swoop bikes.

The captain gave his holopad to a subordinate and came over. "Hey you!"

Chewbacca wheeled around and barked in greeting. *Hello?*

The man laughed at the Wookie's anxious expression. "Nah, don't worry. I know Shyriiwook. No way in a Hut's Diet am I gonna deal on Wookie Planet, with Wookies, without being able to speak Wookietalk." His skin was a light tinge of brown and slightly mottled around the neck. His hair was black, but his eyes were a striking green save where a mechanical implant covered the left one, its lenses shining out red.

Fascinated by his first good look at a human being, Han gaped over Chewbacca's shoulder. The captain noticed his gaze and laughed. "What's this? Who's the mother?"

Chewbacca growled menacingly. *If you understand Shyriiwook, then understand not to speak thus of this human cub or myself. I found him in the wilderness and raised him for two years. I am trying to get to Corellia, where I may perhaps find his family.*

The Captain lifted up his hands appealingly. "I got it. Cut the phobium. Sorry. You must be one of those backwoods Wookies who can't take a joke. But I don't mind. In fact, I'm more interested in your strength…you know anything about mechanics?"

*More than many of my people, yes.* Chewbacca said reluctantly, still rankled by what the man had said.

"Good! I'll give you passage to Alderaan if you'll sign aboard as handyman and engineer's assistant. The barve I hired previously got drunk and picked a fight with a Wookie. He's missing an arm and now a passage home." His face turned dark. Chewbacca did not like that face. But the shadow was wiped away quickly as the man looked up again. "Anyway, you can easily get passage from Alderaan to Corellia. Whaddya say?"

Chewbacca cocked his head to one side, considering the idea. Than he barked in agreement.

The man grinned. "Sweet! I'm captain Stue, by the way. Captain Gary Stue." He extended a hand missing the tip of its pinkie. Chewbacca hesitated, and then took the hand in his huge paw.

SWSWSWSWSW

Chewbacca growled angrily as Han stuck his head too close to the hydro dip, where the super coolant trickled down, clear and white. Han jerked back at the sound of his voice, nearly backing into the other assistant, Greb.

Greb was yet another new being that Han had latched onto with fascinated obsession. Greb was new, completely different with his three eyes and scaly skin and the long tail he kept tied in a strap around his forehead. He had a huge nose and a very friendly grin. Of course, the fact that he sparkled like a color hologram might have contributed to his mesmerizing appearance.

Chewbacca himself found it rather annoying and grating on his acute senses. Greb knew this and apologetically tried to keep out of his sight. But in an engine room that was virtually impossible. Chewbacca was grateful for the extra effort, however, and tried to get used to the nauseating color display.

Han, however, with all the oddity of his race, adored it. He held out his little hands and watched the colors playing on his hands, pretending he himself was a sparkling man. Greb responded to the unabashed adoration, as all others who met Han seemed to do. He adored Han. However, he also shared Chewbacca's concern over Han's penchant to push the extremes beyond safety limits. He reached into a pocket and handed Han a mostly clean wrench. Han sat on the floor and began pounding the ground with it. Chewbacca growled, and Han pounded softly.

Greb wiped his hands on a cloth and pulled some levers, hearing the hiss of steam and clanging farther back in the room. He had been rather helpful in putting together some real clothes for Han, not the rags he had been comfortable in before. Chewbacca, much as he understood the need for coverings on a tiny, naked baby, but he wasn't very skilled at putting it together properly. Greb was a skilled tailor, often mending the crewmen's clothes for an extra fee. Han now had a handsome pair of green pants and shirt, with Greb taking the idea from the long outgrown baby robe Chewbacca had shown him.

"_Yep, green is the color of Corellia, Chewbacca." Greb crossed his legs and flipped through his material. "Nice, dark green perhaps, that rests the eyes a little."_

_Chewbacca woofed in agreement and pulled Han back into his lap._

_Greb looked up as he took out some scissors. "No charge for the clothes, by the way. Han's been a good little buddy to me on this trip, and I hope he finds his family." As he spoke, he looked carefully at the Wookie and saw his head droop, while a sad sound rumbled from his chest. Greb frowned. "Or maybe he's already got his family?"_

_Chewbacca looked up suddenly. *I'd rather not talk about it.*_

_Greb shrugged. "Suit yourself. But remember, Chewbacca, its love, not bloodlines, that make a family. Seems to me his family would have tried to find him by now, probably on Kashyyyk, if they really cared. Seems to me you've given Han all the love he needs for a family."_

_Chewbacca felt the words smash into his heart, awakening dark ripples of doubt and regret, ripples he thought he had stilled forever. He felt cold all over as he felt Han twisting in his arms. He nearly lost it when the boy looked up at him with blue eyes and smile, so big and trusting and loving. *Grraar*(Daddy), Han growled affectionately. _

_And to Chewbacca's shock and surprise, the __Shyriiwook__ sounded so beautiful and right coming off his cub's tongue._

SWSWSWSWSW_  
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Chewbacca marched through the busy, loud streets of Coruscant. Speeders and transports zoomed overhead while aliens of all kinds swarmed around him, and an overwhelming wave of music and smells and languages assaulted his senses. It was so, so different from Kashyyyk, where everything was a part of his life, and so familiar. Here, the crowd swept by him so fast he felt it safe to keep Han in the carrier, even though Han could walk quite well by now.

He read the signs and thought as he wandered. Where to find a missing family? Stopping by some city holo-maps, he quickly found a route to the Children's Center in Quadrant 6 of the Corellian Capitol.

It was not a friendly looking place, with tall, smooth durasteel walls and a door of glass with two home guards standing on either side. The Wookie felt more and more nervous as he stepped inside. The invasive smell of chemicals and soap and medicine choked him. Han thought so too, and buried his nose in Chewbacca's neck with a mutter.

The man at the steel desk ahead looked up and seemed somewhat disgusted and impatient with the huge, furry biped. "What do you want?" He asked stiffly. A translation droid trundled up behind him and spurted out the question in Shyriiwook. But every sound was hard and harsh and metallic, not soft and rumbling and lilting. It seemed almost like a blasphemy to hear his native language spoken in that way. Chewbacca growled an answer. *I am looking for a family who lost their newborn son around two years ago*

The man raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You are asking me to go through our records and see who lost…listen, Wookie. Do you know how many billions of babies are lost, killed, or abandoned every year on Corellia? Why have you just brought the baby to us?"

*His name is Han.* Chewbacca felt a little irritated at them calling his strong, fast-growing cub a 'baby'. *He was in a Corellian CR90 Corvette that was shot down in a battle over Kashyyyk. There was a dead man inside the escape pod who gave his life to keep the child safe*

The man shrugged. "Probably the father."

Chewbacca reached into his pouch and pulled the baby clothes he had found Han in. *I do not thinks so. Han was wearing this. It is a rich cloth from a rich family. And this.* he pulled out the wooden medallion.

The man started to look interested. He reached forward and examined the medallion. "I have seen this design before." He admitted. Suddenly dismissive, he shoved it back. "In my kreffin history books. Corellia used to be a monarchy. Who knows what lords' family bred that boy you raised? I have no time to go searching through the crumbling remains of our proud planet's dead aristocracy."

He looked up as Chewbacca gathered the medal and gown with a disappointed, irritated air. The man gestured placatingly. "Hey, Wookie, if you want you can enter in a form and our orphanages can find a spot for Henry…what was his name?"

*Han.* The Wookie growled dangerously, stuffing the things back in his pouch. *And if this is how Corellia treats its cubs, I can see why he was lost.*

He twisted around angrily and stormed out, resisting the urge to deliver a devastating punch to the unrelenting, cold, unsympathetic walls. He was mad. How could anyone abandon a child like this? Why would they not even try? How could anyone see his Han's smile and not want to help? Could people in the world really be so cold…so selfish?

A small, unrelenting joy bubble inside him, but he immediately, almost guilty crushed it down. No, he should not hope…even if Han was allowed to stay with him…it would not be easy.

He stopped to pull a piece of bread out of his belt and push it to Han, who had started pulling at his head hair unceasingly, asking for food. Han took the bread, but instead of laying into it as was his custom, he leaned his head against Chewbacca's and began to grunt and growl some endearing baby words in Shyriiwook. Chewbacca woofed comfortingly to him, getting the gist of the message. Han was tired of the trip. Han wanted to go home to Malla and Jowdrrl and the treetops. Chewbacca explained they still had farther to go. Han kicked irritatedly; if they couldn't go home, then he at least wanted to get down and stretch his legs.

Chewbacca hesitated. But the crowds had lessened considerably and evening had come on, with the starry sky above peeking through the clouds. Somewhere, Malla was looking at stars just like those, wondering which of them her Han and Chewbacca were on, and when they would come home. Chewbacca felt something tighten in his chest, and he moaned softly to the sky. People barely stopped to give him a glance; you saw a lot of weird stuff on the streets.

Chewbacca untied the straps and lowered Han easily. The boy ran a few steps before Chewbacca's long arms grabbed him and lifted him back with a remonstrating growl, clasping the tiny hand firmly in his paw before they started walking again.

Han bit into the delicious, warm wastril bread, relishing the taste and smell as it brought him back again to the fireside and his big, furry family there. He missed them, especially Malla and Jowdrrl and Rowrakruk, that cub he had just begun to strike up a good friendship with. There, there were friendly faces and good smells and the beautiful world to look at. Here, there were strangely shaped beings, almost hiding in the shadows, covering their faces as they walked furtively. There was a bad smell in the air, something utterly unnatural that made him want to cough. But at least he still had his Daddy with him, he reconsidered, looking up at the tall yet utterly familiar figure. His Daddy would protect him, just as he always had.

As he looked at Chewbacca's head, his eyes were drawn even farther up towards something. The stars. Tiny, white, and bright, so beautiful and sparkling against the purplish blue sky. Han loved them, ever since he saw them on Kashyyyk when Chewbacca took him to the top of trees to watch them in the evening. He always found himself wishing, not to selfishly pull them down and take them for his own, but to fly, to go up and up and touch each star, to fly and laugh. Did the stars talk and laugh? Were they alive? Did they burn you like the orange fire in the fire pit? He longed to ask Chewbacca, but his words were still so unformed, so young. His heart saw wonders he couldn't even yet express.

He gave a shriek of surprise as something dark and furry ran just in front of him, upsetting his walk. Alerted, Chewbacca lifted gently and immediately, preventing Han from falling on his face. They both peered after the creature, which stopped at a lighted window, flicking its bushy black tail and blinking wide, white eyes at them. A female voice laughed raucously and whistled. The creature sped inside.

Han tugged, wanting to go see it. Chewbacca was firmly against the idea. The place was too noisy and bright and the smells coming from it were non too savory. He might go in alone, but not with a cub.

Suddenly the door slid open and a man reeled out. He whistled at the big Wookie shape. "Chakta sai kae, old man. What are you, anywayz, big guy?" He stumbled forward as Chewbacca hefted Han protectively into his arms, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the whiskey reek. The drunkard put groping hands against the Wookie's furry side. "You…you've got lots of fuur…fuzzy…smell really bad…not as bad as me…" he trailed off into giggles and slumped to the ground.

Chewbacca carefully stepped over him. The man looked up and called, "waait! Friend! Chum! Help me out…will ya? Friend…other friend…bad guy…gonna kill me. Won't kill me if I'm walking with a big, smelly, hairy guy!" He laughed, "Slippery as a greased Dug…won't touch me if you're with me…huh?"

Chewbacca sighed. He was not going to get Han caught up in something like this, and gestured to the boy, hoping the drunk would understand. Of course he didn't. He trembled somehow to a stand and jogged forward, grabbing Chewbacca's elbow. The Wookie stiffened protectively. "Fine…don't walk me home…I'll walk to your home. Where's yer home?"

Chewbacca studied the way the man was swaying. He'd probably collapse before too far. Then Chewbacca could lay him against the wall and move on to find shelter for himself and Han. No doubt the man was used to sleeping in the streets. He grabbed the man's shirt with a grudging growl and strode on.

The man yawned, batting at the paw that held him upright. "Thanks pal…good pal. Good dog."

Chewbacca rolled his eyes.

Han holding his left, the drunk sagging at his right, the Wookie walked on. He finally felt the man go limp and dragged him to a corner where he could sleep. Then he continued. It was a long, somewhat quiet walk back towards the spaceport, where they could perhaps find accommodations.

He realized Han was nearly asleep on his feet when the boy began to gurgle and growl nonsense. He lifted him up in his arms. Han twisted to get more comfortable and buried his face in Chewbacca's chest. *Love you, Chewie. Love you, Grraar*

Chewie grinned, feeling the tension and stress within him subside for a little bit. He tucked Han into his arms carefully. *I love you too, Han.*

*Sing* Han insisted, grinning mischievously.

Chewbacca couldn't help complying. He wanted to sing, it brought him back home, back to Malla and the world he knew, where having Han as his cub was so uncomplicated. Sometimes he forgot why he had actually felt the need to go, what was so important about finding Han's parents.

Greb's words came back to him. _"Its love, not bloodlines, that make a family."_

He began the song in a woofing pitch that had none of the gargle of his growls or roars. Just a continues, chanting tone that dipped from tenor to base and back again. It wasn't the tune that was important, though the pitches vibrated his chest comfortingly to Han, but the words.

_*Wroshyr trees, forest kings, twining root to root. Joined together forever like the love between two hearts. They dip deep in the earth and eat the wisdom of the beginning, we dip with them and find the water of life. Swinging above the Shadow world, where the darkness rages, knowing it cannot reach the light, and we, we are safe! Swinging in the wroshyr branches, on through the trees. We catch the light in our fur and breath the stars. We follow the fire and hunt the lizard, but always we can come home, home to the wroshyr tree.* _

There was more, more about love and life and the meaning of the stars, but it was all cut off.

Living in crowded cities on crowded planets full of immorality and capitalism and filth and hopelessness, the people of the universe were on the whole united by only one idea; they hated the way life was. Some were too brave to kill themselves, others were too afraid, and it was the latter that usually went insane or climbed the ladder to higher offices of corruption and oppression of their fellow beings.

The Wookie's singing barks did not disturb anyone. Usually aliens with highly grating voices walked through the planet screeching at the top of their lungs. But somewhere, somehow, out in the darkness and filth and decay, a man had given up. He surrendered to the darkness and let go of his mind. Hearing the song, he detected a note of beauty, of hope, of love that he was bereft of, and he suddenly hated the singer.

Without warning, he was seized with superhuman strength. He reared up from his pile of drugs and bottles and saw the anvil, seated below the window in the moonlight, the one he used to forge credits on.

He leapt up, gritting his teeth with rage, looked down, and saw the singer. The Wookie was walking down the street, cradling something and singing lovingly to it, but the man didn't care. He just wanted the voice to stop reminding him. If he wasn't happy, if he had lost these things, why should others be happy and have them?

He heaved up the anvil, feeling something pop in his back. He got it up and screamed down below, "YOU KREFFIN BARVE! STOP SINGING! STOP IT!" At the very same instant as he called, he shoved the anvil.

It teetered on the edge of the sill, almost as if the wind had suddenly blown in a puny effort to keep it there. It wobbled an instant…

And then tipped.

Chewbacca looked up towards the sound. His eyes widened as he barked in dismay. He tossed Han away and began to move his legs to run…

It was too late.

The heavy metal bounced, shattering the carbon walls and breaking through a ledge of cheap cement before coming down on the Wookie's shoulder.

His rear bruised, Han sat up and could only watch in horror as his friend, his protector, his Daddy, disappeared with a howl of agony into a pile of rubble and stones and wood, crushed by the irritation of an imbalanced stranger.

The smoke settled. Suddenly aware of what he'd done, but only bothered that he might be found out, the man slumped on the window frame and covered his head with his hands.

Han stumbled forward, patting uselessly at the rocks, whining in worry. He barked…no response. *Daddy…daddy!* He reached for the only bit of dark fur he could see…and his hand came back with blood. He whimpered. No sound. Then he threw up his head and screamed at the sky, trying to bring help, to summon his tribe, trying to call the very stars to witness. And then, tired and still so, so small, he bent down and began to sob, shaking and utterly alone.

The man had jumped at the scream. He looked down and nearly lost his dinner at what he saw. An eyewitness. The singer thing's own kreffin child. With shaky hands he stumbled, half fell down the stairs and made his way out into the street. Feverish, his eyes with a wild glint, he smiled waveringly at the oblivious child. He wanted to try to tempt him inside where he could dispose of him quietly. He waggled a finger. "Come…come on…kid…gonna give you something…really sweet, really nice."

Han barely noticed, his voice still rising in quiet sobs.

The man came forward, the fake smile fading from his face and being replaced by something much more predatorial. He lunged. But his entire body was shaking from whatever he had been drinking and inhaling upstairs. His aim was far off, and he fell in a pile, his hands flapping uselessly on the boy's leg. His hands snaked forward and latched onto Han's ankles. Han cried out, suddenly noticing the attacker. He pulled away, but the man held on like iron, slowly and inevitably dragging Han off the pile and towards him.

Han cried out, calling for his Daddy to rise with a powerful roar out of the rocks and put this pitiful enemy to flight, to grab Han and wrap him in powerful, strong, safe arms of warm fur.

No answer.

Realizing how small and weak and alone he was should have terrified the toddler, but another spirit, the same spirit that taught him to dance on thin, perilous branches on the leafy world of Kashyyyk; that spirit brought him strength. It taught him to lunge forward and bite the hand.

The man gave a howl of more surprise than pain, releasing Han and recoiling protectively. Han jumped up and ran, aching inside. He had to find Malla…bring her to heal Daddy, or maybe Jowdrrl would come and make Chewbacca laugh until he opened his eyes again. Someone, somewhere, should be able to do something! Only those of his family with heavy silver fur had ever died…and they always died smiling, surrounded by friends and family. Nothing like the pain and fear and panic in Chewbacca's eyes when he fell. His Daddy couldn't be dead.

Han ran on and on, screaming at the top of his little lungs. No one noticed. Screaming children were not new. He ran on, seeking help that never came, until he fell into an exhausted heap, passing out from sheer exhaustion.

The stars were so beautiful, but so cold and far away, like a million lights gazing helplessly on the collapsed figure on the ground, who kept clutching at his hair, his eyes streaming even in his sleep as he twisted, searching for a warm, furry presence that wasn't there.

_**to be continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's notes: Thank you, reviewers! Without your reviews, writers would wither away into poofs of dust. Thank you for pointing out my mistakes! I fixed the Wookiee spelling in this chapter, and I'll fix the eye color and spelling in previous chapters if I ever get the time. Also, I have read no Star Wars books, which is why I pass over Shrike's part so quickly! And if you see any plot mistakes, feel free to tell me. Thank you all!_

A dog sniffed at the pile of rocks, licking his muzzle as he smelled blood. The sun rose hot and yellow through the clouds of pollution as the constant, maddening hum of space transports zoomed overhead.

Suddenly, heaving from underneath, the rubble shifted. Then it spilled. Dizzily, wearily, painfully, a tall brown form strained to a stand. Chewbacca gave a moan of pain and clutched his shoulder. The dog backed away whining.

Immediately, Chewbacca's eyes darted here and there. No Han. He called Han's name in a soft, woofing tone. Nothing. He barked. He roared.

Han would never dare disobey a roar. It meant only one thing: Han was gone.

With a roar of agony, Chewbacca tore himself out and ran blindly, the horrifying site of a full grown Wookiee gone frantic with worry charging through the streets, calling out the same sound over and over, searching for his cub as he pushed by pedestrians with terrifying force.

It was a week before he ceased searching the endless maze of Corellia. He had been arrested for disturbing the peace; he had eaten and drunken nothing. There were red, raw circles around his eyes and his pace was shaky. He was on the verge of collapse. But he couldn't rest, not when a part of his heart was missing, torn so suddenly. His cub…his Han…where was Han?

On and on, through so many streets and mazes and bars that it became a blur, Chewbacca searched, tirelessly, devotedly, longingly…

He never found him.

SWSWSWSW

Malla was watching the horizon when he came back. She saw he was alone. He saw her cry. She saw how weak he was through her tears and raced forward. As he plodded tiredly, he met her, he grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, missing the little hand that had rested on his head the last time he had seen her like this, missing the voice that had solemnly pronounced them Daddy and Mommy. And he forced it out. He forced it out from his aching soul. *Malla…oh Malla…I lost him. I lost…Han…*

It was then, and only then, in her arms, perhaps for the first time in his life, that Chewbacca the Wookiee cried.

SWSWSWSWSWSW

Shrike, a monster at heart and a dealer in crime, pain, extortion, and slavery, was the one who found the boy. Five years old, dressed in rags, with long, unkempt brown hair and fiery blue eyes. Something about the boy was very striking. And for Shrike, any promising boy was yet another obtainable tool and toy for his army of pickpockets, thieves, and cons. There was no love, not even sympathy, only greed in him as he approached the terribly thin child.

He said the perfect words to a hungry heart he would never even try to heal. "I know almost everything that goes on here on Corellia. I know who's lost and who's found, who's for sale and who's sold, and where all the bodies are buried. Matter of fact, I've had my eye on you. You seem like a smart lad. Are you smart?"

The boy's eyes lit up with the praise and he spoke in the Basic language that he had grown so proficient in from necessity. "Yes, Captain. I'm smart."

Shrike grinned at the easy trust. "Good, that's the lad! Well, I could use a smart lad to work for me. Why don't you come with me? I'll give you a square meal and a warm place to sleep. And I just bet you'd like to see my ship."

A fire burned in his eyes and seemed to imbue the neglected child with amazing energy. "A spaceship? Yes, Captain! I want to be a pilot when I grow up!"

Shrike nodded his head. "Well come on, then!"

And Han entered into a slavery of forced crime, of beatings, of starvation, and danger, but most of all, of lovelessness. A slavery that would last until his manhood, when he broke his chains and became the person the universe had shaped him to be with the losses and hardships it had forced him to endure. That, and the very same spirit that used to prompt him to walk out on dangerous limbs until a loved voice called him back, turned him into the man he became.

SWSWSWSWSW

Shrike took his medallion. Shrike took everything he owned and sent Han out to get more. Han realized very quickly that this was not home. Shrike sent him out and, hearing something rattle inside, broke the wooden medallion open carefully. A holocron chip dropped out. Interested, Shrike put it into his hologram.

A man's face in shimmering blue sputtered to life. He spoke.

_To whoever finds this, I have been charged with the protection of the child you will find by me. I am on a long, long journey with him. There is a chance that, during this journey, I may fail in my duty towards him and his family. If so, please, in the name of goodness, take the child with you. Take him back to his home planet on Corellia. You will be well rewarded for your trouble, if you will only return him to the family of Solo. His parents are…_

Shrike chuckled grimly and removed the holocron, holding it up to the dull light. "Not likely. The house of Solo fell into poverty three years ago. No reward there. Besides, this kid has better things to do than cling to titles. He's got a quota to fill and a job to do, or I'll teach him to do it. No, Han _Solo_…" he snarled out the last name. "You're far too busy to go back home."

With a careless flick of his fingers and a vicious stomp from his boot, Shrike ground the last bit of proof of Han's legacy into tiny shards of dust.

SWSWSWSWSW

When Han was a cocky, mouthy, rebellious nine year old, hardened by his life and angry at the world, he found a friend. A Wookiee female who began to serve as a cook. The minute he saw her, he stood with mouth open. Faded memories of green trees and brown, furry beings clamored mutely in his mind, but he didn't recognize them. She looked up, saw him staring, and smiled. *Never seen a Wookiee before, cub?*

He blinked, understanding nothing of what she had said. She grinned and reached into the oven, holding a hot piece of bread gingerly. *Every child understands food.* and tossed him a piece.

He caught it and bit, and the taste flooded him again with sensations he couldn't come to grips with. Comfort, familiarity…something else. "It's great." He admitted. "What is it?"

The Wookiee frowned, wondering how to tell him if he didn't understand. She shrugged and gestured him to sit. He did, but she didn't like the way his eyes kept darting suspiciously at her. She pointed to herself. *Dewlannamapia…or Dewlanna* She added her nickname.

The boy's face furrowed in concentration, and he tried to copy the first name. She noticed immediately how skillfully he emulated it, and she saw the muscles moving in his neck as he worked by the throaty sounds easily. Interesting.

The boy swallowed the rest of the bread and gave her a daredevil smile that hid his true feelings behind a mask of bravery. He tapped his own chest. "I'm Han. Just Han."

SWSWSWSWSW

Dewlanna became so much to Han. She came to love the human child, spending her own money to get him medical attention when he was ill, getting Shrike drunk so she could find out Han's last name and tell him, teaching him to read and speak Shyriiwook, and ruffling up his brown hair constantly, although he didn't like it and always smoothed it down. Han took so fast to the Wookiee language, almost as if he was relearning it. He didn't like speaking it, but he learned so well that Dewlanna couldn't say anything too fast for him to understand. He always loved that bread, the wastril bread, and nerf sausages. Dewlanna fed him, encouraged him, comforted him, and, more than anything else, she loved him.

And Dewlanna saw so, so much more in this Corellian, this Han Solo, than anyone else. She saw the greatness and fire that was inside him, channeled out into bitterness and smart comments by his hard view of life. In another lifetime, what he could have accomplished!

And Dewlanna wanted, with all her heart, to give Han that better lifetime. She wanted him to be free of Shrike, to follow his own destiny through the stars. She wanted it so much she gave her life for it, taking Shrike's blaster bolt that was aimed at Han when the boy tried to escape.

She gave her life for him, and dying in his arms, she heard the sweetest words, words blurred by tears and hitched sobbing that she was, for once, powerless to alleviate. "You want me…to go…to live. And to be…happy. Okay! I'll go. I still have time to get aboard that robot ship before it takes off. I promise. I'll go now. And I swear I'll always remember you, Dewlanna." And she felt his kiss on her forehead, and she died, happy.

SWSWSWSWSW

It was many years later, a lifetime later, when Han Solo refused to obey an Imperial order and skin the injured prisoner Wookiee alive, losing his position in the Imperial Navy as a result. He spared the Wookiee, who in turn swore a Life Debt to him, becoming his constant companion. Through thick and thin, through the passionate, reckless, up and down life Han led, the Wookiee was at his side.

Despite initial hostility on Han's part at having yet another person close in his life whom he might lose, they grew very close. Something unseen and unacknowledged, never even spoken of, drew them together. Han called the Wookiee "Chewie" as another human child called the Wookiee long ago, and the Wookiee called Han *cub* in affection, as he had called another human child, long ago.

In this scoundrel, this scruffy, fiery, sometimes shallow smuggler, Chewbacca found no connection with his lost cub, his joyful, innocent, sweet Han. True, the smuggler's name was Han, but he had a last name too, Solo. Chewbacca's cub had had no last name.

It was only rarely, very, very rarely, flying into the stars, through asteroid fields or doing that impossible kessel run, burning through the sky, that Chewbacca saw a glimpse of something very much like his lost cub in Han's eyes. The very same look that had shone in baby Han's eyes when he danced, so foolishly, on the end of the branches. The look that would have sent him into the stars.

But it was impossible. It was gone. There was no connection. Just a coincidence and a similarity and a twist of longing in an old Wookiee's eyes.

SWSWSWSWSW

The cool floors of the Millennium Falcon rumbled in space as she drifted, using minimal power to keep her in orbit around the trade station 45 Sentic. Chewbacca rumbled to himself softly as he paced the corridor, checking up on instruments and readings and perhaps for any dishes left out before bed.

Even as he busied himself with different tasks, he had one clear goal in his mind. Han was up in the cockpit, had been there for a long time. Chewbacca was waiting until the time was right to join him.

To those who didn't know him better, Han Solo seemed to be a very callous and shallow person, only concerned with credits, adrenalin rushes, and the small pleasures a smuggler could afford, such as alcohol and gambling. Chewbacca himself had found it a bit too easy to believe when he first came to be Han's co-pilot.

But now, after spending so much time with him, he knew different. Han was a classic softy with a tough guy exterior. Such a tough, hard shell he hid inside, almost as if he had put on another man. He had no clear virtues or sentiments to speak of, yet Chewbacca knew they were there.

For one thing, his friend was brave, almost to the point of foolhardiness. He was inclined to be reckless, but that recklessness was always buoyed up by the most amazing Solo luck. A veteran of the Clone Wars, Chewbacca had seen Han fight, and knew a warrior when he saw one.

Han also had a wonderful way of breaking all the rules and twisting them into something almost unrecognizable in all his endeavors. Whether in battle, in gambling, in love making, or even in bargaining, Han Solo was the most unpredictable opponent in probably all the known galaxies. He was deadly with his blaster draw and, in Chewbacca's extensive experience, the most skilful and breathtaking pilot ever. The Millennium Falcon was his baby; he knew her inside out. So did Chewbacca, but the Wookiee was sure he was not nearly attached to the relic as Han.

Chewbacca finally made up his mind and bent his head down to fit into the cockpit. Brushing by Han, he fit himself into a seat and turned to look at the Corellian.

Han was drunk. Chewbacca sighed when he saw the bottle dangling from his hand. He hoped it wasn't too bad. Luckily, Han usually only took heavy alcohol occasionally, mostly during his moody periods.

Chewbacca took the bottle away from Han, meeting no resistance. Han crossed his arms under his chin and rested them on the dashboard, his blue eyes staring at the stars.

There had been quite a lot of this when Chewbacca first met Han. The smuggler had just gotten through some very tough times, not the least of which was being kicked out of Imperial Service, losing a close friend name Bria, and memories of his days as a pickpocket still rather fresh in his mind.

To the Wookiee's surprise, however, there were a few, rare, precious moments, when Han was intoxicated, that he slipped into a dreamy state. While in this state, Han shared much of his past with the Wookiee, whom he trusted. In return, Chewbacca told him stories from the Clone Wars and stories about his home planet, Kashyyyk. Han loved the stories of Kashyyyk. A light would sparkle in his eyes and he drank in every word, asking so many questions. By sharing these things together, their friendship grew strong.

However, Han was quiet today. Today was probably one of those evenings where they just sat together, feeling the Millennium Falcon vibrate softly, watching the dark sky as it was streaked every once in a while by flying stars or spaceships. Across the whole view, the stars shone out, bright and white and so beautiful.

Han broke the silence, suddenly. "You know pardner, I always wanted to fly…since I was no higher than a Jawa."

*I could have guessed. Why?*

Han leaned back in his chair, gesturing out the window. "It was those darn stars that did it. I used to ask myself all sorts of questions about them. Questions I wouldn't be caught dead saying now." He grinned.

Chewbacca smiled, knowing Han would tell him but pretend it was embarrassing all the while. *What sort of questions, cub?*

"You know…stupid stuff like, are the stars alive…do they talk and laugh, or maybe burn like fire. Crazy stuff like that."

*I don't think it sounds crazy. It sounds beautiful.*

Han gave him a disgusted look. Then he turned to gaze back at the stars. Chewbacca looked as well, and his thoughts went back to sitting, perched at the very top of a huge wroshyr tree, arms wrapped tightly around the tiny, wriggling three year old who kept shrieking in delight and pointing at the sky.

"Chewie…did you want to go out in space? Besides the fact that you were forced to…do you like to fly?"

*I don't really know, cub. For me it was a necessity, not a choice. I love taking care of the ships…yes, and I do love flying. But my heart is still in Kashyyyk. I have strong roots there.*

"With Malla? And your cub?" Han looked at him with sympathy. He knew how Chewbacca had had to leave his family there, only able to visit a few times a year as they avoided the Imperials.

Chewbacca wondered how big Lumpawaroo was, what he was learning without his father there to guide him. *Yes.* He woofed shortly, wanting to change the subject.

Han, of course, understood. He did change the subject, so quickly that a stranger would have thought he was doing it naturally. "Well, at least you haven't lost any of them. In this crazy universe of ours, that's a rare gift."

The words hurt. They were meant to comfort, but they hurt. Chewbacca took a deep breath. *I did lose someone, Han.*

Han's face darkened sadly. "Sorry Chewie…me and my big mouth." He straightened in his chair, surprisingly alert for someone who had just downed three fourths of a bottle of Hayan whiskey. He watched the Wookiee for a minute, and then spoke very, very softly. "Who was it?"

Chewbacca looked at the stars, his answer coming out in a sad moan. *My first cub.*

SWSWSWSWSW

The wind was so strong, so hot, whipping dust and dirt into Han's eyes, flapping through his clothes, threatening to tear him off the Falcon's lamp as he reached out. He didn't care that planet Dobido would collide with planet Sernpidal in a few minutes, he didn't care that he was in danger of being pulled out into the collision, heck, he didn't even care if the moon hit the Millennium Falcon directly and killed him and everyone aboard.

He cared that Chewie was still on the planet.

So many survivors were packed into the ship that it was creaking as if in pain. Anakin Solo, his son, started lifting the ship higher into the atmosphere, fighting against the wind.

And below Han, an agonizing few feet below, Chewbacca stood and fought against the wind, trying in vain to reach Han's outstretched hand. It was madness to even try and pull up a heavy Wookiee in this hurricane, but it was impossible for Han Solo not to try.

But then, just like that, Chewie lowered his arms. He had given up. Han screamed, though the words were whipped away in the wind. "CHEWIE! GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

Chewbacca shook his head and roared something. *Goodbye, cub.*

"NO!" Han roared back. "GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

He frantically thought…I have to extend my grip…a few inches…

Dropping to his belly, he felt the wind pull him, sliding him towards the edge. His hands dug into the metal, finding grip after grip in a vain attempt to control his descent. His scruffy brown hair whipped into his eyes, blinding him.

"No! Dad!" He heard Anakin cry out, probably feeling what his father was doing through the force. But he didn't care. Anakin was safe. The people were safe. Now he needed to save Chewie.

He locked his ankles around the low pole, almost losing it as his ankle bones slammed against the metal and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed as he pivoted with the wind. Pain vibrated up his legs. Chewbacca's face flooded with worry and disbelief, and he shook his head, barking in dismay.

"Shut the kriff up, you big fuzzball! Give me your hand!"

Chewbacca obeyed, only because he foresaw what would happen to Han if he didn't. Han had always been afraid of losing his loved ones, something that stemmed from his mysterious childhood. Chewbacca had become so close to him…he didn't want to know what Han would do if he lost Chewbacca. His dear, angry, sensitive, insolent smuggler cub. A man with no roots, who grabbed the ground as fiercely as if he had. He looked into his friend's eyes and saw the pleading, the loving, begging worry.

So he tried. He leapt. The wind swept him forward and he almost…almost…short by a foot. Han grit his teeth in both disbelief and pain. Just a foot. No way in the kreffin universe was Chewie gonna die because Han was a foot short. If only he'd been born a Wookiee.

Gritting his teeth, Han unslung something from around his neck and dangled it.

When Chewbacca saw it, he gave a double take and nearly let the wind blow him over, his foot claws scrabbling in the sand. As it was, he regained control and leapt up, grabbing the wooden medallion. It should have broken. The string was just leather. It should have broken.

But it didn't. It survived for five seconds, until Han pulled Chewie's arms high enough to grab his wrists. The Wookiee took over, grabbing the edge of the ramp and pulling both himself and Han up against the wind, nearly carrying the Corellian by the waist until they both escaped the storm and stumbled into the ship.

They both collapsed, panting, onto the floor. Han sat up, wiping the sweat and dirt from his face with one hand. "Blaster bolts, Chewie, don't scare me like that again or I'll kill you."

Chewbacca, for once, didn't answer with an amused growl. Han looked down and notice the leather strap was wound rather tightly around his wrist, partly because Chewbacca was still clasping the other end with almost a deathhold from where he lay on his belly.

He wondered what significance the wooden carving had on his friend. Perplexed, he waggled his still imprisoned hand in front of the Wookie's face. "You mind telling me what's so epic?"

Chewbacca sat up and looked at Han, his eyes peering so deep it made the smuggler uncomfortable. Finally, Chewbacca spoke. *Where did you get this, cub?*

"Remember that Shrike I told you about? Went back to his ship, the one he kept in orbit around Corellia. You won't believe it, pal, it still _is_ in orbit. Hunk of junk…anyway, I went to see if I could find anything…you know, about me. All I found is the medallion. I remembered it, so I took it. Not much. That greased Dug owed me a lot more."

Chewbacca woofed slowly, disbelievingly. Then he grinned. He laughed, as a huge sore that had festered deep in his past and in his heart faded away forever. He laughed. Han smiled, catching the humor but not the meaning behind it. His smile turned to dismay, however, as Chewbacca caught him into a rough hug, his chest expelling a roar of triumphant exultation.

When Han was finally released, he stared at the Wookiee with that amusing, petrified confusion Leia surprised on him so often. Chewbacca closed his paw over the medallion fondly, gazing at Han and finally understanding all the connections. On impulse, he reached forward and rubbed Han's hair.

Han was quick to bat the paw away. "I'm gonna have to sedate you, Chewie. Calm down and tell me what the heck is wrong. For someone who almost died you seem very happy."

*I am, Han, I am.* Chewie made an effort to calm down, at least for Han's sake. It had hurt for so long, but now it was suddenly perfect. Malla was waiting for him with his cub, Lumpawaroo, on Kashyyyk. Now he could bring her back the other cub they had lost so long ago. Older, prouder, needing them less, perhaps, with his own cubs and his own life to live. But he could come and see her again.

Chewbacca could barely believe it. His cub and his dearest friend were one and the same. He couldn't help laughing, almost roaring with sheer joy and relief. They had missed so much, but they were together again. Kashyyyk was Han's home as much as his, Chewbacca's fire was Han's as much as his; Han's cubs were Chewbacca's cubs. It had always been thus ever since Chewbacca met the smuggler, but now it took on a deeper significance in that Han Solo was no longer the lonely, homeless, hurt smuggler wandering the universe. He was a son of Chewbacca and a child of Kashyyyk.

The lost cub was found, and his soul was safe. He had not died, had not been corrupted, had not been destroyed. His spirit was too strong to be broken. No matter what, he had come home. Even as a man, there was one thing Chewbacca and Malla could give him that he would never stop needing or tire of, that they had already given him when they hadn't known his true closeness to them; that thing was love. He shook his head at Han, wondering where to begin. *But I have such, such a story to tell you. And…I am so happy, cub. You have made me so proud.*

Han still didn't understand. How could he? But he realized the compliment, and the joy in his co-pilot's voice. With his scruffy, Wookiee-brown hair, warm blue eyes, and the same love he used to show Chewbacca when he was a cub, Han smiled and squeezed the Wookiee's furry arm. "Glad to hear it, Chewie. Glad to hear it."

FINIS


End file.
